


Once Upon An Universe

by EsriteIatha



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: After a while, Extremis Tony Stark, F/M, M/M, Multiverse, Multiversion Of Certain Characters, Mutual Pining, Natasha Stark Is A Big Fan, Nick Fury Knows All, Post-Endgame, Steve Rogers Feels, Superior Iron Man, Team as Family, Tony Feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-07-27 22:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20053183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EsriteIatha/pseuds/EsriteIatha
Summary: "Amazing! It's settled!" Pietro appeared out of nowhere. His curling, silver hair fell into his mischievous blue eyes. "We are totally naming this mission Wooing Captain America!"She and her husband groaned in unison. The black cat on the table meowed with mirth. Man... they would never live this one down...So, ladies and gentlemen, this is how Natasha Stark ended up with the task of wooing Steve Rogers aka Captain America back to the right mindset, so they could deal with the next Big Bad.





	1. Chapter 1

## Prologue

Her shoes almost slipped on the wet ground as she made her way down the stairs that led to the secret door of their bunker. She cast another wary glance around, despite her instincts saying that it was okay, no one was around. You can never be careful enough. When she was sure that it was clear, she pulled the cover plate away with her glove covered fingers and punched in her entrance code. As soon as the door opened wide enough, she slipped inside and the sensors closed the door behind her. She sighed heavily as the elevator started downstairs smoothly. After a few minutes, the elevator came to a halt and she stepped into the living room of their secret bunker/shelter.

In every universe that she had visited Stark had the very smart idea of creating this place and no one else knew about it. Not even Pepper, not even Rogers. Or Rhodey. Or Happy. Or... Really anyone. 

But they knew about it. This was not their first rodeo after all. She just blessed this universe's Stark for it. 

"This is the last time," she started as a greeting. "That I get supplies during a fucking storm!"

Her husband jumped to his feet and hurried towards her. He swiftly gathered her bags into his arms and pecked her lips gently. 

"Hello, Sweetheart!" he almost purred. "Thank you for all this!"

"Do not thank me," she huffed. "Everything is a mess out there. I'm not getting supplies. Period!"

"We asked you because no one else can do it right now," Widow spoke from her seat on the top of their conference table. Her red hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail and her piercing blue eyes were as sympathetic as ever. Like not at all. "You are the only one that wouldn't be recognized in public."

"He could do it!" the new arriver huffed as she pointed at the black cat that was also resting on the top of the table. Everyone in the room turned towards the dark-furred feline, who looked back at them with unimpressed green eyes. 

Widow hummed then turned back towards the small, frustrated woman. "Nope, it has to be you." 

"Cowards!" she huffed and pulled her wet coat off herself. 

"I'm afraid, there is a bigger problem right now than who does the shopping." Nick Furry spoke up as he walked into the room with all of his knitted jumper clad glory. In her humble opinion, he looked horrible, and she said so. He just frowned at her disapprovingly like an exasperated teacher at his unruly student. Which in his eyes she probably was. 

"Be prepared, a shitstorm is coming!" Her male version from another universe spoke up. At least he was using a chair like a normal person. He didn't turn towards her though. His intense blue eyes were regarding a hologram in front of him with great interest. 

She looked between them with suspicion clear on her face. Her husband shifted from one foot to the other when she glanced at him. 

"What?" she asked with dread. 

"Threat is coming, this is why we are here," Nick spoke. She swallowed down her snort. Threat sounded understatement. She glanced at her male version. His grimace told its own tale too. Upcoming doom would have been better.

"And it seems that this Universe's Steve Rogers' planning ... something." Their leader finished. 

The tone that Nick used sounded off. It said more than his actual words. She frowned. "Like what..." she swallowed down the lump in her throat. It was not her version of Stever, but still, it was Steve!

"Suicide?" 

She snapped her eyes back at her husband. He looked back apologetically, his blue eyes saying sorry. 

"I wouldn't put past him, Darling," he spoke softly. "He lost so much. It must be crashing."

"Would you?" she asked back, her gaze holding his captive mercilessly. 

"If I lost you? I don't know what I would do." he tore his eyes away from her. His broad shoulders dropped as he curled in on himself. She reached out and put her hand on his arm to comfort him. 

"What do you want me to do?" she asked. 

"Prevent it." Nick offered oh so helpfully. 

"Why me by the way?" she raised her eyebrow. "This is what he can do too!" she pointed at her male version. He snorted and mimicked her expression. 

"And what? Give him a heart attack?" 

Widow raised her hand. "Same problem!" 

"You could dress up as this Universe's Fury, he looks way cooler by the way," she commented as she turned her attention back to Nick, who despite her best efforts, didn't even roll his eyes. 

"He most likely talks with that Nick. It would be a total failure. No, it has to be you. You have enough experience, knowledge and you wouldn't be recognized. Perfect combination." 

"As much as I hate this idea, " her husband spoke up again still looking oh so apologetic, "You are the best choice. He will listen to you." 

She groaned. She was defeated and she knew it. Didn't mean she had to like it. "I hate all of you." 

"Amazing! It's settled!" Pietro appeared out of nowhere. His curling, silver hair fell into his mischievous blue eyes. "We are totally naming this mission Wooing Captain America!" 

She and her husband groaned in unison this time. The black cat on the table meowed with mirth. Man... they would never live this one down... 

So, ladies and gentlemen, this is how Natasha Stark ended up with the task of wooing Steve Rogers aka Captain America back to the right mindset, so they could deal with the next Big Bad. 

Amazing!

To Be Continued


	2. Hey, Husband! Nice to meet ya!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You should have seen your face." she hisses, then there is confusion. "Or his face. Whatever. But Steve, Honey! He is lost. He has nothing to lose. And he wants to lose that nothing too."

Hey, Husband! Nice to meet ya!

The night sky is still cloudy and everything around her is still wet, but she ignores it. The city lights in the distance look beautiful and shooting. It creates an air of nostalgia. A silent reminder of her own, long lost universe. Something dear burnt up in hellfire. She shakes her head to chase away the dark thoughts. As she said it before, long lost.

"Hey!"

She looks up to see a dark figure approaching her. She relaxes as she recognizes her own male version. Tony sits down next to her and peeks at her from under his black hoodie. Black. The color of their disaster trio. Tony, Pietro and that devilish monster that is still lying on their conference tables in a cat form love it. She finds it too much personally.

"Coffee?" he offers up a small cup that he has carried up there oh so carefully.

"It's almost midnight!" she raises her eyebrow.

He frowns. "Your point?"

"Of course, I want coffee! Stupid question!" she grabs the cup out of his hand and is already sipping it as he starts rolling his eyes.

"I really don't like you," he mutters.

"Bleh! Cold!" she holds the cup and the remaining coffee in it out in front of her.

"So ungrateful!" he huffs and taps two of his fingers against the bottom of the cup. His eyes glow red, while an orange-colored halo appears around his out held arm. Few second and the gentle steam appears above the cup, curling in the air like a snake.

"Much better!" she hums as he pulls his arm back. "By the way. You know the saying, you have to love yourself before you c---"

"If you finish this sentence, I'll murder you in cold blood," he warns.

"You mean in hot blood?" she asks back.

"Never mind. I'm going inside!" he huffs and rises to his feet.

"Waaait!" she calls and grabs his arm stilling his movements. He looks back at her disapprovingly, blue eyes as piercing as cold ice. "I was just messing around. You know, being frustrated and all and not allowed to tinker. It messes with the mind." she explains while making quick circling motions at her temple with her now empty cup.

He keeps frowning as he lowers himself down next to her onto the cold concrete. She still holds onto his arm, just to be sure.

"Why aren't you allowed to tinker?" he asks.

"You know. Stupid husband thinking that I need sleep before the big mission. Tinker means I probably have to cut back on sleep. Hence the veto on the subject. But man! I have ideas! Ideas!" she whines.

"Damn, that's harsh!" he grins. There is no amount of empathy present in his features. The bastard! He is probably already planning his full night long tinkering in one of the bunker's labs. Because of course, it has multiple of that. Stark's creation after all.

"Come to think of it. Where is that sweet husband of mine?" she asks.

"Steve? Guilt cooking in the kitchen. Considering that we are past dinner, I... really don't know what the outcome would be." Tony frowns at the city lights in the distance.

"A very long week filled with leftovers." she deadpans. "I'm speaking from experience."

"In that case, I'm off to tinker in my lab for at least... hmmm... a week!" he grins.

But Natasha isn't paying attention to their banter anymore. The looming threat against this Universe swims into focus as suddenly as usually her and Tony's ideas appear.

"Do you think he is here already?" she asks quietly.

He sobers up too. He follows her gaze till his too settles onto the city once more. Then as she glances to the side, she sees that his blue eyes start to glow with the artificial blue color of the arc reactor. Zigg-sagging lights appear on his skin around his orbs. He is searching, so she waits for the results.

"I don't know. I'm keeping eyes on the satellites and every public camera. I keep searching the Internet for his prints or any sign of him. So far, nothing." He sounds as frustrated as she feels. It is understandable. After all, their enemy keeps being at least one step ahead of them, bringing death and destruction to every universe he has visited.

"Well, this is not reassuring," she mutters.

"We need to get to Steve before he can," Tony speaks. His eyes turn back to normal, and the glowing lines disappear too. "We need him if we want to save this one. And we need everyone if we want to stop him for good."

She hums as she laces her fingers together and rests her chin on the top of them. Well, no pressure at all.

♛/♚

The cafe is busy, filled with people. He glances at the men and women, from face to face. He sees almost the same emotion on all of them. Lost. These people are lost. Just like him. They did it. They brought everyone back. But they lost so much.

Five years have gone by. Everything has been in motion except those people they brought back. The world hasn't actually stopped with their disappearance. So many have been born, so many have died during that period. Tony would know the exact numbers.

Steve shakes his head to chase the thoughts away and sips his coffee. Black without sugar or milk. Shit. Not helping.

He sighs heavily and rubs his eyes. Experts say that denial is one of the most primitive but for a certain period of time the most effective and strongest way to cope. There must be something wrong with him because he is just not capable of it. Like his mind just wants to actually deal with it. Or destroy him. Who knows.

The funeral will be tomorrow.

He really should be with his team ... he likes calling them family... but are they? Is the right his? After ... all? For example... where was he during those five years? Why was it Nat and Rhodey who became the godparents? Where was he?

_No trust. Liar._

He should have made things right.

"Get your shit together." he mouths into his cup.

He has so many things to do. The funeral will be the next day after all.

Pepper is dealing with everything. He should help out. She should be able to mourn, not manage everything again. He has been told that there will be cremation. There won't be a coffin, there will be an urn. Peggy's was so heavy on his shoulder, this one would mockingly light. Not that they will actually have a chance to even glance at the urn. It will be Pepper's and no one else will ever know where his final resting place will be. Just her. His request. There is a logical explanation behind it all, of course. In their world, supervillains would do anything to create something super bad and his DNA with his stupidly smart brain ...

Huh... He has lost the thought in the middle of it. That must be bad.

He really should be helping Pepper.

Or watch out for Peter. He took it so badly. This is not something that the kid should be dealing with at such a young age. At least he still has his Aunt. But. He should be there. And what about Harley? The other youngling under Tony's broken wings? Who is taking care of that kid?

And Thor? His depression hasn't gone away magically. During their Timeheist, he sought out Tony's company as much as he could. Rhodes said that Tony had PTSD and he suffered from depression too. He recognized it and knew how to deal with it. He was safe for the Norse God.

Oh, Rhodes. Who is watching out for the Colonel? The down to earth, logic is my weapon, paralyzed but still standing Colonel? The one who joined them to keep his best friend, Tony safe? Who is watching out for him?

At least Clint has his family.

The funeral is coming.

He should be doing something. Instead, he asks for another coffee when the waiter accidentally steps into this dark, lonely corner of the cafe.

"You!"

He blinks at the source of the voice, then quickly looks around, but there is no one else in this corner, so the "You" has been aimed at him.

Huh.

"Me?" he asks back weakly.

"You!" she hisses.

On closer inspection, she looks like a little ball of fury. Not that she is round. Actually, she is on the skinny side of the range. Maybe she has been a model when she was younger. That would explain her rigidly straight posture too. Or a ballerina. She has her hair up in a high, elegant ponytail, like the ones Pepper likes so much. The flaming red lipstick she used on her stern lips matches with her red coat and nail polish.

Man, she is tiny. Even in her high heeled boots.

And angry. Don't forget the angry.

"I'm sorry," he starts, because he is not in the right mind for this. "I'm n---"

"That Harley. Is it yours?" she snaps.

That's ... a surprise.

"Yeah?" he blinks.

"With me! Now!" she orders and makes her way through the crowd of people mopping around the cafe.

What can Steve do? He follows her after leaving money on the table.

They step out of the building. She goes straight for his bike. There she stops, angrily crosses her arms in front of herself and glares.

"Explain this shit!" she snaps.

He glances at his bike with confusion. It has seen better times, yes, way back then Tony took care of it almost maniacally.

_Swear to God, Rogers, if you throw this one at the bad guys, like literally throw it at them again, I buy you a bicycle, because you don't deserve this Beauty!_

"I don't understand." he stammers.

She lets out a frustrated sound and throws her arms up. He has to blink because of this, it is so... so Tony. He shakes his head.

"There is oil everywhere! When was the last time... Wait don't answer that! I don't want to know! Holly cow! What... This! Do you see this? This is a crack! How could... you... Argh!"

Steve watches the melodrama unfold with a morbid fascination. She is already crouching in front of his bike pointing at this and that while going into great detail what horrible person he is for letting this and that happen to his vehicle.

"What's your name?" he asks.

Her speech comes to a sudden halt and she blinks up at him owlishly. A technic he has learned with Tony. Sudden, not related questions are good ways to stop his famous rantings. Were. His brain probably shortcircuited. It works like magic on this lady too.

"What?" she asks back. She rises to her feet again.

"What's your name? I don't know how to address you." he shrugs.

"Amanda. Amanda Armstrong." she offers her hand and he takes it, shaking it gently.

"Your bike is in a horrible condition," she states.

"I know that." he nods.

"It's in a desperate need of repair," she adds.

"I'll look into it," he promises.

"I have a garage. I expect you to be there tomorrow at two pm. Precisely." she orders with her nose held up high.

Everything comes to a halt. His suffocating, dark demons that have been pushed into the background with that previous conversation swarms back with a gleeful battle cry. He feels his shoulders drop, his stomach clench, his mind going blank.

"Can't. There is a funeral. Tomorrow." he says in a daze.

Faces swim in front of him. Faces of people who are doing their best to prepare while he is doing nothing. Pepper buying a tiny black dress for her daughter. Bruce rebuilding their time machine. Clint and Sam cutting the grass and taking care of that menacing alpaca.

Rhodey and FRIDAY surgically removing the stones from Tony's ruined right hand.

There is a feather-light touch on his arm and he almost jumps out of his skin. The woman, Amanda, is looking at him with head slightly cocked. This close her eyes look golden as the sun shines into them.

Just like his.

Her features are channeling an emotion which he can't name. It's not pity. Not even the universal pain the whole world seems to wear like the newest trend.

He doesn't know what it is, but it's somewhat still calming. Reliable.

"Then the day after tomorrow," she says. "Be there."

She lets go of his arm and walks away. Red coat, like a cape swirling after her. Something bright in the black world.

Of course, she didn't say the address. Or the name of her garage.

He looks back at his bike and notices something white on it. A napkin. He takes it gently in his hand and stares at the numbers standing in a neat row, written with blue ink.

When and why?

Huh.

♛/♚

"You are out of your mind," he says, he hopes calmly, as soon as Natasha enters the bunker through the elevator. She blinks at him while she freezes in the middle of taking off her coat. She glances around and slowly resumes her movements when her eyes settle on him again.

"You told me to improvise?" she offers with a shrug.

This time he doesn't hurry forward to take her coat. He crosses his arms in front of him because this is not the time for a warm hug, but for damage control. He has an impossible wife after all.

"A garage? How do you expect us to get a garage, oh sorry, not just a garage, but a working garage, preferably with a good reputation in two days?" he asks, his incredulity is clear in his voice.

Her heels are clicking loudly as she makes her way towards the conference table and throws herself down with less gracefulness than what she usually shows.

"We can buy one." she shrugs.

Of course, it's her solution. He can't really blame her though. She grew up with this option always present. His wedding gift from her was Area 51 after all. But they are not at home. Not anymore.

  
"With what?" he asks.

"We have the money you know." she huffs. "Coffee? Tell me we have coffee. There must be coffee. I've been shopping yesterday!"

"Nat!" he warns her. She blinks at him with a mixture of annoyance and exasperation. He ignores it. "Ther emergency fund is not for this."

She sits up straight and this time there is nothing easy in her posture. She is rigid, battle-ready. Her brown eyes flash at him.

"You should have seen your face." she hisses, then there is confusion. "Or his face. Whatever. But Steve, Honey! He is lost. He has nothing to lose. And he wants to lose that nothing too."

There is guilt curling in his stomach as he steps forward and sees her fingers shake. After all, this is he who worries her. Not he, he. But he.

"It should be Tony, you know," she says. "It's not me he needs. Tony could save him."

"Tony is not his Tony," Steve says with regret. Because hell. It would solve so much. Because it's not just this Steve who lost his other part, but their Tony too. And he sees them, what they could have been every time he sees Nat and him. How painful it can be? His mind can't comprehend it.

"So we are buying a garage," he says finally.

"I always wanted a garage!" she grins.

♛/♚

The rain is falling when he steps out of their temporary shelter. He doesn't care. It's fitting after all. All he needs are few claps of thunder here and there and everything would be fucking perfect.

He starts running.

As his legs carry him through the empty streets his thoughts assault him mercilessly. The argument crept upon them, then made its presence known through an explosion of emotions.

It all started with Strange and the kid.

Dr. Strange. The Wizard. The Anomaly. Someone who seemed to hate Steve with passion. Someone who traded the Time Stone for Tony's life. According to Nebula at least. Tony never confirmed it.

So, Strange was there. The kid was there. One thing followed the other and the kid suddenly looked up and decided to throw hands with the Wizard.

While screaming about knowledge, chances, sacrifices, murder.

It took them a while, but finally, they understood. With the Time Stone, Strange was able to see the future. He knew what would happen.

When the realization dawned, Steve went at the Wizard too.

The almost brought the Second Civil War to life.

Then Pepper came. Pepper, a human female without any kind of superpower shut down their whatever this shithole was with only one shouted "enough". They froze, everyone where they stood. It looked probably comical how from one arm Clint from the other Sam was hanging off him, while the kid was wrapped in Rhodes' not relenting arms. Strange just looked miserable and defeated. 

Pepper, looked at Strange and thanked him for her daughter and the five years that he had given her. That was it. The new perspective they all needed.

Steve left not long after that.

Now, he runs like there is no tomorrow, which is bullshit because there will be tomorrow and there will be a funeral which he doesn't want to attend. But will.

He stumbles to a stop. He folds in on himself and sobs.

♛/♚

He sits on the top of the bunker, just like how he did it last night with his female twin. This time though it's not coffee in his glass, but whiskey. His eyes glow with blue artificial light as his connection with a satellite is in place.

He takes a sip and enjoys the burn. Not that he can get drunk. Not anymore.

He keeps his eyes on the running figure so far away from him. He sees him collapse. He sees the sobs shaking the body.

He takes another sip.

"Jarvis?"

_"Yes, Sir?"_

"Extremis was a mistake."

He closes his eyes.

To Be Continued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you liked it!
> 
> If you have questions, suggestions or just want to talk, you can find me on Tumblr: https://thegeniusnumber.tumblr.com


	3. A Hard Day’s Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But then the Universe does what it loves to do, to remind him that technically this is a bad day and he can’t let his guard down on bad days.

## A Hard Day’s Night 

The night has covered the city with the blanket of darkness, but he doesn’t feel the need to turn the lights on. The dark fits him quite well nowadays. He sits on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, his long fingers holding a tiny vial between them. Pym particles. He snorts to himself. Truth be told, he planned his day very differently than how it turned out in the end.

He went to the funeral. Probably the hardest thing he has ever done in his long life. No. That’s not true. Looking at Morgan, seeing her beautiful, tiny, round face and _his_ eyes looking back at him… That has been the hardest thing. He stood next to Pepper and Thor, watched the projection with them. Broke his own heart into million tiny pieces next to them.

Ross came to the funeral.

He remembers staring at the man as he stepped out of his black SUV. He started preparing for agents, bullets, the Raft. Ross just looked at him and he seemed oh so tired.

“I've come to a funeral,” was all he said, then simply walked past Steve. Captain Fucking America didn’t know what to do with that information. In the end, he didn’t do anything.

He watched the very first arc reactor swim on the silent lake under the mockingly sunny sky.

Then he put on his uniform and prepared himself for his very last mission. At least that was what he planned to do.

It started badly too. As soon as he was close enough, his eyes found the stones, this time locked in their case. It brought up thoughts. Rhodes and FRIDAY, removal of the stones, Tony’s lifeless eyes staring and not seeing, the fact of cremation, flashes of a long-gone war and the smells… He turned, hurried away from the others to a remote and tree-covered part of the farm and threw up. He stayed there, leaning against a tree, shaking like the leaves above him till Bucky found him. Then he cried on his best friend’s shoulder. Bucky didn’t say anything, didn’t try to comfort him with meaningless words and he has never been so grateful.

It took him some time but somehow, he found the courage and the strength to do what had to be done. He traveled back in time again.

He made sure to avoid him at all cost. He was successful until the last stop.

_1970_

It only took one wrong turn, and they were there.

Howard and Tony Stark.

They were facing each other, deeply immersed in a conversation. Steve couldn’t stop himself, he stared. Tony’s intelligent eyes were still vibrant, full of life. However, there was wisdom too. Some kind of mature aura to him that even Howard seemed to sense and seek. Tony’s father was leaning forward slightly and seemed to actually listen to the other man in front of him. A rarity considering the man’s nature.

Then the elevator arrived and took the pair away, leaving Steve behind to finish his mission in a daze.

He did it somehow, then he was left with one, absurd thought swirling in his head like the snake around Eve’s ankles. He could stay in the past. Stay with someone he loves. He could find happiness. He seriously started planning. He went and found a quiet library in the city, sat down and started planning. He had everything ready, knew when he wanted to go.

Then he remembered his Harley. The house of cards had fallen. He remembered his bike, Amanda, then the avalanche started rolling… Pepper and Morgan, Rhodes and Happy, his team and family. Peggy and Tony.

He chuckles without mirth and closes his fingers around the tiny vial. He came back to 2023 because a woman got angry on behalf of his bike. He stands up and walks to the nightstand. He pulls a drawer out and gently puts the vial inside. He has still time after all. Quite literally actually.

♛/♚

It turns out that their team can create their own garage in one and half day indeed. Jarvis found the perfect place on sale and he was the one who did the transaction online too. Pietro isn’t as famous here as in his own, original universe, so, he was the one who accompanied Natasha to check the place out and sign the contacts. Do some charming to hurry things up. Tony, Jarvis, and Widow created a background for Amanda Armstrong and her garage.

“Swear to God, Facebook is a nuisance!” Tony huffed after creating the hundredth account just for a single comment. Romanoff laughs at his annoyed expression, then drinks the rest of his coffee just for the hell of it.

In the middle of the night, Steve, Tony, and Pietro set out to gather resources, cars, bikes for the garage. Steve is strong, Pietro is fast, and Tony can hack computers and security cameras with his mind. They are a good team.

By morning everything is set.

Still, when Natasha’s burner phone rings, everyone settles into a nervous silence. She sighs heavily when she sees the number on the display, then clears her throat and answers it.

“Armstrong.”

“Hello!” Steve sounds hesitant, nervous. “I’m… oh, I forgot to introduce myself…. I am…”

“Steve Rogers.” Natasha cuts him off. There are numberless wide-eyed looks aimed at her. Pietro starts into a panicked, chaotic waving maneuver. She bares her teeth at them. Tony decides that banging his head against the table is a good idea. Her Steve just looks miserable.

She shrugs even though the man on the other end of the line can’t see her. “I recognized you,” she explains.

“Oh…” there is uncertainty in Steve’s voice. Something she can’t allow to be.

“Doesn’t change the fact that your bike is in a horrible condition. So, here is the address…” she reads it up from the small piece of paper that her husband slides in front of her. “At two o’ clock p.m.”

Steve agrees. He still sounds a bit hesitant, but a notch better than before. She ends the call after a curt “bye” and dares a glance at her teammates. They don’t look too happy with her.

“You knew it! I’m not good at this stuff!” she huffs.

“Not kidding!” Widow comments, then immerse herself with her morning latte.

“You are quite horrible at it.” Tony agrees with a cheeky grin.

She decides that they are childish and not worthy of her time, so, she attacks her breakfast, omelet made by her husband with gusto.

♛/♚

“Sir, FRIDAY has started a background check on Amanda Armstrong,” Jarvis reported. Tony looks up from his newest project with a hum. Was that… fondness in the AI’s voice? It’s not impossible, but surprising. He chooses not to point it out in the end. Though, he puts the observation in a tiny mental box and catalogs it as “Check it later”.

“Is everything good?” he asks and turns his attention back to the wires in front of him.

“I’m not detecting any complications.” The AI reports.

Tony’s hands still and he stares ahead. His mind is filled with blue, blond, red, white, stars, smiles, blood… gunshot wounds. Sharon Carter screaming.

There is a loud snap.

He looks down. His last project is in ruins. Broken, melted. His clenched fist sits snuggly between the pieces. It’s glowing red-orange.

“Sir?” Jarvis sounds hesitant this time. “Shall I alert ---”

“No!” Tony orders. He unclenches his fist and brushes everything to the ground. He stands and walks to the farthest shelf of the workshop. He stares at the golden liquid taunting him through the crystal-clear glass.

He used to be sober.

He used to be lots of things.

♛/♚

The garage is in Queens which means a tiny road trip for Steve. He tried not to look, tried to firmly keep his attention on the road, but it turned out to be impossible. There are painful reminders everywhere. The people are mourning too, he tries to remind himself. However, there is an ugly thing deep in him, which keeps asking: _What gives them the right? They are not his family!_ The tributes sometimes feel dishonest. He can’t forget how these people used to dunk Tony's name into the mud. It hasn't been that long. Now, everyone hangs black flags everywhere, there is red and gold painted on buildings, walls, monuments. Even the Statue of Liberty.

Steve punched a hole into his TV.

Maybe it’s just the mood of the day.

They held a commemoration for Natasha this morning. They wanted to keep it separate from Tony’s. A morning just for her. They planned for just the original Avengers to be present. The remaining four of them. Jesus. _Four_. But then Wanda, Sam, and Bucky appeared almost out of nowhere and the three stood in line right behind Clint. Rocket and Nebula accompanied Thor. Carol and Rhodes came from the sky, the Colonel in his suit, Danvers wrapped in her magical light. Fury's and Hill's presence was no surprise at all.

However, the arrival of Pepper, Morgan, Happy, Harley and Peter was what really warmed and pained Steve’s heart.

“You missed your turn,” FRIDAY’s voice reaches him through his earpiece.

“Shit!” he hisses, but he manages to take the next turn and with the AI’s help, he soon finds himself on the right path again.

“Thank you, FRIDAY!” he smiles.

By some miracle, the AI has decided to accompany him everywhere through his phone. It is a Stark phone, one that was a present from Tony, when he agreed to the Timeheist.

_We need to be able to reach each other. The monstrous thing you gave me? Is unsuitable for that. And I've put it really nicely._

“Steve, we are here!” FRIDAY to the rescue, again.

He spots the garage two buildings away from him. He parks his bike in front of it and stares at it hesitantly. There is no one in sight, but the door is open. In the end, he enters on foot. The garage is almost filled with equipment, car parts, a skeleton of a motorcycle. Despite that, everything looks clean. Somehow this also reminds him of Tony. His lab was always a mess, but still clean.

“Ms. Armstrong?” he calls out.

“Oh, you here!” he hears and turns towards the source. Amanda just stepped out of the office that belongs to the main room. She looks completely different than last time. She is wearing worn and faded jeans, sneakers, a black T-shirt and there is nothing neat about her ponytails this time. Without her makeup, she looks older too. In her late thirties maybe.

“By the way, you can call me Amanda. Roll her in!” she adds waving at the bike parked outside. He complies and brings it in. Amanda immediately gets to work while softly cooing at the vehicle.

“There is coffee in the office. Bring me one too, will ya?”

Her coffeemaker works with capsules and it takes a few tries to actually get something other than hot water out of it, but Steve has been called stubborn for a reason. Eventually, he manages to produce two espressos and takes one of them to Amanda who by this time almost totally dissembled his bike.

“You should take better care of her.” she huffs after accepting the cup.

“A friend of mine used to tinker on it.” he falters on the word friend because of so many reasons he can’t actually count, but then he soldiers on through the sentence. He swallows and turns away because his mind comes up with images that hurt hurt hurt. “He can’t anymore.”

She is looking at him with a searching gaze when he dares to turn back. There is that emotion on her face that he still can’t name, but it’s not pity which for he is oh so thankful.

“Want to talk about it? There are studies that say it helps.” she offers as she turns back to the bike. “they also mention that it’s easier with strangers.”

He rolls his cup between his fingers and stares at it intently. “It’s a really complicated and long story. I wouldn’t even know where to start,” he says quietly.

She hums and for a few minutes, she works in silence while he is watching.

“Talk about something easy than.” she offers after a few minutes. “There must be something not that complicated in your life.”

It takes a while, but he finds a topic. He tells her about the whales he saw right before their last mission. She listens intently as she works. There is a half-smile on her lips as he goes into details about the way they splashed the water, how they sang to each other. By the end of the story, he feels lighter and starts into another story of strange animal sightings he heard about.

♛/♚

New York is laid out in front of him, but he is not seeing it. He sees Malibu, he sees a Tower. He sees red and gold, red and black. Two youngsters snarking at each other, then standing together. A team forming and falling apart. This was not the first time that he lost important people, but this hit him harder than any before. He remembers a much younger Barton, a series of negotiations over a woman. First, he thought that the archer had lost his mind or fell for the redhead. Barton had proven him wrong and after several months, Natasha Romanoff had become one of his most important assets. Years have gone by and she has become much more. A friend … family.

Then on one fateful day….

_The truth is… I am Iron Man._

He had his eyes on Howard Stark’s son much sooner than that, he just didn’t know what to do with him. A Genius Impossible Disaster.

“He will change the world!” Howard had insisted. The bastard was right despite being a horrible father.

Tony Stark has changed the world more than once.

He looks down and swirls the whiskey in his glass. He watches the tiny vortex made by the golden liquid and whishes to disappear inside of it. But he remains standing there, alone, a hole made by loss deepening in his chest.

He remembers the Snap. He remembers Hill. He remembers his own body disintegrating. Then out of nowhere, he is back, Hill is back. Two people he cared about so much are gone.

He remembers the first time he met Rogers after that day. The former Captain looked shell-shocked as he wandered the corridors of their temporal shelter. However, as soon as their eyes met, the supersoldier broke down. _My fault My fault My fault._ It was a horrible mantra. Something that was imprinted into his mind forever. Luckily, Wilson was there and jumped into action, taking his friend away to the safety of a private room.

No one knows that Nick Fury has the same mantra running on a loop in his own head. He sips his drink. He has so much shit to do.

“Drinking is not the answer!”

He spins and as soon as he ends the movement, his gun is already aimed at the intruder. He almost drops it though. The person who dared to sneak up on him looks exactly like him. Only the doppelganger is dressed ridiculously. Knitted jumper over a white shirt and is that a baseball cap? 

“What the Motherfucking Hell!” he snaps.

The man shakes his head disapprovingly.

“Language!”

♛/♚

They meet up in their room this time. There is an exciting intensity to Natasha’s eyes as she storms through the door. She tugs harshly against her ponytail and soon her messy, dark hair falls to her shoulder. He meets her halfway. His fingers dart under her T-shirt and dance on her skin. She fists a handful of his shirt and tugs on it too, uncaring of the fragile buttons. Some of them land on the floor with a tiny clatter. Their lips meet and she bites then he too. They tumble onto the bed, somehow Steve ends up on the bottom. She looks fierce, hot and hungry above him.

“So? How was your day?” he asks cheekily.

“Oh, shut up!”

They clash against each other again.

♛/♚

He punches the button of the elevator angrily. He has a bad day. No particular reason for it, but it’s bad. The doors barely open, but he is already stepping out. He strides through the living quarter. There is a storm raging outside, and he needs to get out. The storm is the perfect cover. Someone else though has different ideas. Just like every fucking time.

The black-furred cheetah jumps in front of him, effectively blocking his way. The green eyes that are looking at him are both disapproving and worried. It pisses him off even more.

“Not now!” he hisses.

The big cat shakes its head and doesn’t move.

“It’s night and raining! Shitty weather with zero visibility! What more do you want? I can’t be kept under lockdown here. I’m not like that! Not like you!” he spats. And immediately regrets it when the cat flinches and curls a little on itself.

“Sorry…” he mumbles and looks away. “I’m just in a shitty mood and need to get out. Please.”

The cat sighs wearily and moves out of the way. He never argues, Tony notes, at least not for long. He knows his history, how different their worlds were. How little differences, seemingly unimportant decision can alter reality. Terrifying.

He almost forgets about his anger, about his bad day as he ponders on the subject. He is almost out of the bunker when something lends on his shoulder. He looks up and comes face to face with a green-eyed raven. They stare at each other unblinkingly for a long moment.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks. The raven snaps his beak impatiently and flies ahead, leading the way. Tony finds himself grinning as he pulls his hoodie over his head.

♛/♚

She has learned early that silence is a very bad thing to have in their little group of misfits. She narrows her blue eyes at the silver-haired youngster, the only occupant of the room. Pietro is munching on what looks like Pringles. They stare into each other eyes and she feels every crunch pulling on an invisible string that’s attached to her nerves. She clenches her teeth.

“Where is everyone?” she forces out. It sounds even. Point for her.

“Not here,” Pietro shrugs. She knows twenty-seven ways to kill him on the spot. Scratch that. Twenty-eight.

“Elaborate!” she forces out. She still sounds even and reasonable. Wow.

“Mr. and Mrs. Rogers, by the sound of it, not that I was listening on it, but you know… something about coitus?” he grins. She just rolls her eyes.

“And?”

“I don’t know! Maybe she is giving him a blo---”

“Pietro!”

“Oh… But come on! You gotta be clearer about your questioning…. So, other Stark and our shapeshifting buddy have gone on a field trip. At least according to Jarvis.”

Widow rubs her forehead with a frustrated sigh. Just perfect. Stark and his restlessness. This can end disastrously. When did she sign up to be a babysitter? Seriously!?

“Where is Nick?” she asks while planning for worst-case scenarios.

“Out.”

“Where?”

“Meeting with this Fury. He thinks the time is right.”

“WHAT?”

Oh, boy…

♛/♚

The rain falls so heavily that it’s like walking through a thick curtain nonstop. The occasional flashes of lightning don’t give enough light to create better visibility. There is barely anyone outside and those who are unlucky enough to be there don’t care about anything else, just to get to their destination as fast as possible. No one pays attention to the lone, darkly dressed, hooded figure walking around slowly. And finally, after so many days, Tony can walk around freely and not think. He follows the black raven that hops from a rooftop to a garbage can, then onto the lamppost. His mind is finally blank.

He doesn’t keep tabs on the passing of time.

But then the Universe does what it loves to do, to remind him that technically this is a bad day and he can’t let his guard down on bad days. This is the first thought in his mind as something orange appears in front of him and it turns into an oh so familiar portal. The raven calls out to him warningly, but his legs are rooted to the ground. He watches the emerging figure with a morbid fascination.

It’s Stephen Fucking Strange.

To Be Continued… 


End file.
